Astoreth does Ferelden Part 13: Return to Ostagar
by Natmonkey
Summary: Follow Astoreth as she traipses through Ferelden and shares her thoughts and wonders. In this instalment: our heroine and her friends return to Ostagar. There they will clear away the darkspawn, and come to terms with the past.
1. Pointy Ends

_Welcome to the latest part of_ Astoreth does Ferelden. _Stuff will happen, and things will ensue! Stay tuned. _

* * *

><p>A loud clang echoes all over the otherwise silent camp when I parry Alistair's blade with mine. After he'd explained the basics of swordplay to me ("Stick them with the pointy end, make sure any pointy ends on the other's weapon don't get into you."), we began sparring. Stubbs was watching us with great interest for a long time, until he fell asleep by the fire. Last time I glanced over there, the dog was lying on his back, sometimes kicking his legs as if running. Doggy dreams. Alistair and I have been at it for over half an hour, I think, and he's not managed to get in a single hit.<p>

"Wow, you're a natural!" he exclaims adoringly, making a swipe that could take off my head.

I manage to block it with my shield. Finally arl Eamon's unwanted gift gets to see some use. "No, I don't think so. That Arcane Warrior probably did more than just tell me how to channel my magic into physical strength."

"You mean that he gave you a warrior's talent, or something? Look at you!" With a wide grin on his face, he deals another unsuccessful hit, and takes a defensive position. "Perfect posture, perfect form... It's amazing."

"Well, I am learning from one of the best, aren't I?" I wink and simultaneously jab at his unprotected side. Thankfully, he parries it at the very last moment. "When is this over? I'm getting a little tired, and we don't seem to be making a whole lot of progress."

Alistair arches a stern eyebrow. "Do you think the darkspawn are going to let you take a break when you complain about how tired you are?" He switches to offensive and makes a wide arc in the direction of my stomach, which I easily sidestep. "Do you think the archdemon is going to fetch you a cool, refreshing drink?" Swipe, clang. "Do you think the assassins Loghain keeps sending after us give a crap about your progress?"

"Fine then!" I block his sword with mine and hit my opponent square in the chest with my shield. Just as he advised, I really put my back into it. And what do you know, it works. With a surprised yelp, Alistair topples over and lands on his back. Promptly I place my foot on his chest, pointing the tip of the sword against his throat. "For your information, my friend, I'm still a mage and could have easily ended this fight by lighting your hair on fire. Now, surrender."

Raising his hands, he laughs happily. "I surrender." When I've helped him back on his feet, he says in an ominous voice: "A mage who knows her way around a sword. Be afraid, enemies, be very afraid."

"Thank you for the lesson." Just as I'm standing on my toes and making the boy smile by pressing my lips to his cheek, Zevran walks by. He's humming cheerfully, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His bronzed skin looks damp in the light of the campfire, his hair is completely down and dripping wet. None of that is as interesting as the markings on his back though. I'd love to be that beautifully decorated. Would there be a shop in Denerim where they do that? The Dalish have their people for it, but I don't think they would do it for me. I'm not one of them, after all. I'm a dirty human! I trace the lines on his back with my eyes until the assassin has disappeared into his tent.

"Whatever do you see in him?" Alistair mutters. There is an obvious tone of jealousy to his voice.

I shrug. "Not much. I just really like his tattoos." Aw, how cute... He's afraid I'm into Zevran.

"Oh yes, I asked him about those." With a sour expression, he adds: "He immediately saw fit to let me know he has them in more places than just his back."

"He does tend to hit on people at every turn, doesn't he?" I laughingly shake my head. Ever so persistent, that one. "I wonder if it hurts. Having ink applied under the skin with needles _sounds_ painful, but what do I know?"

My friend winces. "Apparently it does. Why, do you want one? He says he learned how it's done back home."

"That's interesting, but whatever, we don't really have the time for such things." Although I wish we did. I like being pretty. "So uh, would you like to spar again, or something?"

"No, sorry." He shakes his head. "I really need to take a bath. You're welcome to join me, of course, but I know how you think it's inappropriate." Blushing remarkably less than he used to, Alistair utters a saucy chuckle. Ever since I gave him that kiss, he's been far bolder than in the past.

Two can play that game, my friend. "Inappropriate? You and me, both butt-naked? Don't be silly. I'll meet you there then."

"Damn, bluff called." Instantly his cheeks have turned tomato red. "Why do you always have to see right through me?"

"Maybe _I'm_ not bluffing," I reply, putting a sultry tone into my voice. "Perhaps I like the idea of running my soapy hands all over your..." I manage to swallow just in time, so I can avoid drooling all over my chin. The mental images I'm getting are just way too sexy. "Never mind, forget I said anything. Will you just call me when you're done? I'll go check on Collin." My little angel has been sleeping for hours now, comfortably cradled in his potato-crate bed. He's never really fussy or anything. I think I really lucked out with a child like this.

Alistair has a surprised look on his face. "My what? I bet..." He awkwardly clears his throat and averts his eyes. "I bet there's a great deal of things that you could teach me." Still a little shy, I see. It's so cute I can hardly resist giving his cheeks a good pinch.

"Why yes, I could teach you how to make healing poultices, or lyrium potions. Or how to rock a baby to sleep." I know what he means, of course. And no matter how much I'd like to teach him all I know about pleasing a woman (namely me, since I don't really know what other women like), surely this is a bad idea. His first time should be with someone special; not with some horny mage. Not that he's not special to me, just... You know. Bad idea.

"I've always wanted to know how to prepare poultices!" he chirps, barely able to disguise the disappointment in his voice. "The grinding of herbs, steeping in animal fat... Very exciting. I'll warn you when I'm done." With that, he claps me on the shoulder unnecessarily hard and walks away.

That really smarts! He really is too strong to mess with; without being properly armoured anyway. I'm going to make a mental note never to roughhouse with Alistair. Hmm. I hope he's not too disappointed about me not taking the bait. Ah, well. It's for his own good, really. I duck into my tent and immediately dive into the potato-crate. Why hello, my precious little pumpkin. Still sleeping soundly, I see. In his sleep he makes a little noise as I run my fingers through his hair. Yep, it's really beginning to grow now. I imagine the boy will look just like his father when he's all grown up. Except that he'll have my big nose. I don't know if that's a good thing.

Hmmm... The time has come for me to keep my promise to Morrigan. To kill her mother. Considering the legends about Flemeth, I doubt it will be easy. Maybe I can weasel my way out of this? We'll see.


	2. Possession

"Morrigan?" I whisper at the entrance of her tent. "Are you still up?"

A few rustling noises, a light being lit, and her sleepy face peers out. "Hmm? What do you wish of me?"

"I'm sorry I awoke you, but I need to ask you something. May I come in?"

"Of course." With a subdued yawn, she moves the flap aside and allows me to enter. "Full of questions, are you? Even at this unholy hour?"

I kneel beside her bedroll, in which Morrigan is still lying. "Well, it's very important. Do you really want your mother dead?"

"I can see why you might ask this," she replies thoughtfully, "despite knowing the fate that she has in store for me." As she sits up, the blanket sliding off her reveals that she's topless. Gulp. "The truth is that no, under normal circumstances, of course I would not turn against my mother so. For all that she is not the picture of maternal love, I mean her no ill will."

"So uh..." I manage not to stare at her breasts, somehow. Awfully dry throat, though. "It's entirely because she wants to possess you?" As I kind of do right now. Maker's breath, what is _wrong_ with me?

Morrigan nods. "Indeed. Flemeth taught me long ago, that once you know your enemy, you must strike quickly and without mercy. Were our positions reversed, she would no doubt do exactly the same." Her slightly bleary eyes regard me expectantly.

Ah... Too bad. I really can't wriggle out of this. Another near-death experience, coming right up. "Yes, I have to agree with you. It's necessary."

"Good." A relieved breath passes from between her lips. She looks oddly colourless without all that make up on her face. "Then please, end this waiting and deal with her as soon as you can. This is driving me nearly mad."

"Oh, I'm sorry." I pat her delightfully silky shoulder. "I had no idea this was troubling you so. Rest assured: tomorrow, we're off to Ostagar, and then I'll kill Flemeth for you."

Her lips appear to force themselves into a sour smile. "I fear that I may offer you no reward."

"I'm doing you a friendly turn; you're not hiring me to be your mercenary." I press a sisterly kiss to her cheek. "Keeping you around is all the reward I need. Goodnight."

Apparently Morrigan is so surprised that she doesn't even make a reply when I leave her tent to return to my own. And here I thought I was the unadjusted one. Like I said before, growing up in the Wilds can't be all it's cracked up to be. Of course there is freedom and adventure, but there aren't many other people. People skills are important. Or so they say.

Oh man, only now do I feel how tired I've become from that sudden burst of exercise. Before this whole Grey Warden thing, I would just sit around and read. Or sit around and stuff my face with chocolate. I think I'll just close my eyes a bit until Alistair comes along. Just for a few moments.

~*|'-'|*~

Hm? Oh, I must've fallen asleep. No darkspawn dream this time, but I vaguely remember being in bed with someone. I've no idea who, or what we were doing. I could venture a guess regarding that last part though. Content snoring sounds from just around my chest level, whispers in my mind. And there we have prince charming, curled up to me with a big old smile on his face. So much for waking me for that bath, aye? Just look at how sweet and innocent he looks. He's going to make some lucky girl very, very happy. I cradle him closer to my chest and close my eyes. That bath will have to wait until tomorrow morning.


	3. Ixnay on the UckFay

"So are you ready for this?" Sword and shield in hand, I expectantly look up at Alistair. Going back to the place that cost him so much might be a tad emotional. And I'm here to put my newfound knowledge of hand-to-hand combat in practice.

"Yes." He bares his teeth in a fierce grin. "Those fuckers are going to pay for what they've done."

"_Alistair_!" Wynne exclaims in shock. "Watch your language!"

He shrugs. "I'm a grown man, Wynne. We're allowed, or maybe even expected, to swear from time to time."

"Fuck yeah! Well said, boy!" Oghren obviously approves of this message.

But what of the effect on Collin? Thankfully, I see that Morrigan is covering his ears with her hands; the baby looks hopelessly puzzled. "Thank you, Morrigan. Very thoughtful of you."

"At your service, my friend. Little Collin is far too young to be exposed to such words." The witch flings a mean glare at both Alistair and Oghren, who cower before her. Wynne meanwhile, glares at me. I know: monkey see, monkey do. Although I doubt that he's never heard those words before. Wasn't he in the company of a bunch of burly men, before fate brought us all together? I bet they weren't minding their words around him either. Or were they? Let's see how that would go:

_One Grey Warden is polishing his sword and accidentally cuts himself: "Well, fuuu..." _

_Another quickly covers the speaker's mouth, whispering: "Ixnay on the uck-fay... The newbie is listening. I hear he just came from a convent! It's our job to preserve his innocence!" _

_"Good golly, you're right!" the first exclaims. "I meant to say, oh _fudge_! Just fudge." _

_Alistair: "Mmm, fudge... I wonder what's for dessert tonight?" _

Bwaha. "So, who will our group consist of this time?" Again I look at Alistair.

"As usually it's you, me and Wynne, which leaves room for one more person." Briefly he looks around our little group. "Leliana?"

Zevran raises his hand to protest. "Why is it I haven't been for an adventure with you all for such a long time?" he asks with a conspicuous pout.

An exasperated grunt comes out of Sten. "I am finally reunited with my Asala, but am given no opportunities to hear her deadly song. Yet you hear no complaints out of me." If that's a hint, he truly has to be less subtle about it.

"Well said, Sten. Let me answer that question for you, oh mighty Crow: you may be an expert with daggers and the like, but we need another for long range. Apart from that, you're almost as bad as I am at picking locks," I reply. It's blunt, but true.

"I am not!" he huffs. "Only because I am not as good at it as Leliana... Humph." Grumbling under his breath, the assassin ostentatiously turns his back towards us. I'd call him a baby, but then I would be insulting my child. Collin is an actual baby, and yet he behaves more mature than this one.

Alistair approaches and gingerly pats Zevran on the head. "If it means that much to you, you can come with us, and Leliana will stay here."

"Really?" Adoringly the elf looks up at him, hope in his eyes.

"No." My colleague laughs cruelly. "I was only messing with you."

"Bah!" Zev angrily shakes his fist at his tormentor. "A curse upon your house!"

Al turns to me. "Asteeer! Zevran is being mean to me. He just cursed my house!"

"You kind of brought that upon yourself by teasing him, no?" Inwardly I sigh at the assassin's pouty face, and Alistair pretending to cry about the curse on his house. He doesn't even _have_ a house, for as far as I know. Silly boys, acting like children. On the other hand, our Crow hasn't seen much action lately and I wouldn't want him to lose his fatal touch. "Leliana, do you mind?"

She looks up from a parchment she was writing on. "Hm, what? What must I mind?"

"Do you mind staying here, while Zevran joins us to kill some darkspawn?" I don't think she got any of the previous discussion.

"Oh, no, of course not. I have things to do..." Frowning in thought, the bard continues scribbling in her beautiful handwriting. Her lips move silently with every scratch of her quill; I'd never seen this little habit before. It's cute. "Do you know of a word that rhymes with landship?"

Ask me for a word that rhymes with orange, why don't you. "Uhm... Chilli dip?" Yes, that would be a great poem. _See yonder landship! It would go great with some chilli dip!_ "No, sorry, I got nothing. Poetry isn't my thing."

Leliana lets out a giggle. "Chilli dip! That is hilarious, but it would not be fitting, I fear. Thank you for trying."

"Oh, I know!" Alistair has a look of enlightenment on his face. "How about bacon strip?" He loudly clears his throat. "As I eat my bacon strip, I contemplate the awesome landship! Huh? Huh?"

"You and our fearless leader are birds of a feather, aren't you?" Chuckling in amusement, Leliana shakes her head. "That is very sweet, Alistair, but I need serious suggestions." Obviously thinking very poetic thoughts, she chews the end of her quill.

I shrug. "We'll leave you to it. All right, Zevran, you're coming with us."

Immediately the man jumps up and throws his arms around me. "Oh, thank you! Finally I get to see some action again."

"Well, I'm glad you're so happy I'm putting you in a potentially life threatening situation." I grin at him. After we've cleaned out Ostagar, I'm sure he'll not be so eager for any more action.

"Oh yes, I hadn't quite thought of that." The sunny look on his face clouds over. "Am I permitted to change my mind?" Slowly he backs away from me.

"Nope!" Alistair gleefully grabs the assassin by the collar. "You wanted some action, and by the Maker, you will have it!"


	4. Strange Weather Conditions

"Why on earth is it snowing here?" I clasp my arms around myself, shivering. "The weather was just cold and miserable a little distance away from Ostagar, but here it's _ice_ cold and miserable."

Wynne nods sagaciously. "I must admit that I am also at a loss, concerning these strange weather conditions. Perhaps the darkspawn brought them?"

"Not troubled by the cold at all," Zevran almost sings. "You know, ladies, I see a very large tree over there behind which I could warm the both of you up very well."

Stubbs barks at the elf, full of disapproval. He decided he wanted to come too, I think. I don't know. He just joined us when we left the camp, and I let him. Maybe he has something to wrap up here as well.

"Do not start with me, dog." The assassin's voice has taken on a haughty tone. "I shall say to them whatever I please. How about it, my lovelies?"

Wynne's lips are pursed, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Thank you kindly for the offer, but that will not be necessary. I shall enjoy a cup of hot cocoa and sit by the fire when we return to camp." Do I detect a hint of frustration there?

"Ooh, can I have some too?" Alistair and I ask almost simultaneously. I love hot cocoa. It's the best on a cold day, but sadly it's a rare treat. Cocoa doesn't grow on trees... At least, not here. Exotics like that come all the way from Par Vollen and such faraway places. I wonder what else they have there. Fruits, spices. Interesting. Mmm, hot cocoa! Just the thought of it makes me feel warm inside. On the outside, not so much.

"Of course, dear children." The old lady chuckles, her mood lifted. "Perhaps you would like some as well, Zevran?"

"I do not have such a sweet tooth, I fear." Zevran sighs in disappointment at his failed invitation. Did he really think that was going to work? "Would you happen to have coffee somewhere with you?"

Wynne answers kindly: "Ah, of course. I will brew you a cup when we return."

"Oh, man... My darkspawn senses are tingling like crazy!" So, so many of them. They whisper in my mind like a mess hall full of mages during dinner; a cacophony of noise.

Stubbs barks and growls menacingly, his fur standing on end. Some of the mental whispers intensify; before long, we are surrounded by a small group of darkspawn. Time to get this party started.

~*|'-'|*~

Zevran is busily pulling the greaves off a particularly powerful darkspawn we just killed. Suspiciously fancy greaves too. Gold and black. I think I know them. "Must... have..." he mutters under his breath.

"It feels so wrong to find this here." Al wearily shakes his head. "Thick with their rot, and..." His voice trails off.

"They belonged to the king, yes?" I pat him on the shoulder, only to find a look of infinite sadness in his lovely eyes. "Your... brother?"

He nods. "Mind you, I never had that much of a relationship with him, but I believed in him. You know, in his confidence that it would be a glorious battle, that we would win..."

"I'm sorry." Wrapping my arms around his waist, I rest my head on his breastplate. "We didn't win then, but we will kill every single darkspawn that we find here. Then we will find our late king, and give him a proper send-off."

"Thank you. I would like that." He releases me and walks ahead. "Onward, then. By the way..." A smile is on his face as he turns in my direction. "You're doing a great job with that sword."

~*|'-'|*~

First we found Cailan's boots, and now his shield. The darkspawn that carry the king's stuff seem to be of high rank, far more powerful than their little friends. Of whom there are quite a lot. I shudder to think of what they did to the poor man's body.

Stubbs whines pitifully and nuzzles the corpse of a mabari, bloodied and maimed. I kneel beside him to pat his back. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Did you know this one? Was it one of your friends? A puppy of your own litter?"

He gives a sad woof, rests his massive head on my shoulder, while whimpering in a heartbreaking way. I've never seen my ferocious pet so down, so depressed. This dog must have meant a lot to him. Even though it's been mutilated almost beyond recognition, the studded collar around its neck is still in pretty good condition. I remove it and put it on Stubbs instead. "See? Now your friend can always be with you."

His ears pick up; he barks, definitely less sad than before. My reward is a big lick across the face.

"There..." Alistair walks a distance ahead as if in a trance, and halts by a familiar place. That's where Duncan had his little camp, where he summoned us, first four, then two, to give us instructions and guidance. I'd better follow. "Duncan's bonfire."

"Yes." I hook my arm through his. "Does it hurt you, seeing this? Seeing how they defiled it?" This area is severely tainted, even more so than the rest of Ostagar. Darkspawn spears are sticking out of the burnt logs, adorned with those strange trophies and ornaments they seem to like so much.

His jaw is set, and his handsome face carries a look of grim determination I've truly never seen before. It suits him, if I'm honest. "No." His bitter voice comes from between clenched teeth. "It just makes me so... _angry_. I'm going to make them pay dearly for this mess. Are you with me, Aster?"

"I'm with you always and all the way, you know that."

"Good to know." With a wry smile, he takes me in his arms and kisses me on the cheek. But then he sniffs, wrinkling his nose. "You smell like dog."

Stubbs barks in response to that, as if to say he was responsible. Which he was. "He did it." I point at the dog, making him wag his stumpy tail. "Oh, we should look for this key that Elric hid here." His shaky map with even shakier coordinates comes out of my pouch. X marks the spot. It's where the mages were camping before; that's very close to here. In fact, I can see it. But where was apparently a statue of Andraste before, now is a pile of rubble. "Hey Stubbs, you see those loose rocks? Dig there and see if you can find a key for me."

He runs off, and after some digging returns with a dirt encrusted, golden key. My mabari is very good at digging; the potholes he made in our various campsites prove the point. Many a morning have I woken up to someone's muffled swearing. Not properly awake yet, they tend to step in and fall on their faces. Sten was the most spectacular victim, because he spat out various words in the qunari tongue. And that sounds awesome. "Good boy! Thank you." My vigorous petting makes him pant happily.

"Who'd have thought his incessant digging would prove useful someday?" Alistair says dryly, earning himself an insulted growl. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! You're always useful."

Appeased, Stubbs utters a triumphant grunt.


	5. The Late King

_To His Majesty, King Cailan of Ferelden:_

_My Warden-Commander assures me that we face a Blight. This thing threatens us both, and we must work together to fight it, lest it devour all. Our two nations have not had a happy history, but that is all it is - history. It is the future that is at stake now. Let us put aside our fathers' disagreements so that we may secure the future for both our countries._

_My chevaliers stand ready and will accompany the Grey Wardens of Orlais to Ferelden. At your word, the might of Orlais will march to reinforce the Fereldan forces._

_Sincerely,_

_Empress Celene I. _

"So it was true!" Alistair exclaims, reading the letter from inside the king's treasure chest over my shoulder. "Cailan had convinced the forces of Orlais to ally against the darkspawn!"

Wynne, reading over my other shoulder, adds: "Empress Celene was merely awaiting his response!"

"A response that never came and now never will, thanks to Loghain's treachery." Again he is speaking from between clenched teeth.

"Yes, blah, blah, blah..." Zevran yawns in boredom. "I am more interested in that sexy sword. May I have it?" He greedily eyes the longsword, glowing with blue runes.

Al sends him a glare that is deadly in its intensity. "Paws off. It was Maric's, and I'm not going to give it to some guy who tried to kill us." Instead he claims it for his own. Which he should, really. Maric was his father, after all, and Cailan wanted to slay the archdemon with that blade. Now Alistair can do it. Nice how things work out sometimes.

"No? Perhaps you and I could make a trade." The assassin shoots Al a look that is so suave and sexy it might have worked. If the latter were into men.

"I swear, you're one step away from getting my boot up your arse!" Slowly but surely, his face is turning red with indignation and anger.

Zev quickly takes a step back. "Never mind then."

"You know, this is another one of the reasons why we never take you along. You don't know how to behave." I shake my head. "Frankly, you're just bloody annoying." Stubbs seconds this with his confirmation bark.

With a mighty scowl, the elf snatches the second letter from my hands and begins reading it. His eyes become larger and larger. "Oh, ho, ho! Juicy gossip! It says here that arl Eamon was trying to convince the king to get rid of the queen, so he could impregnate a more fertile woman."

"What? Give me that." Alistair quickly goes over the contents. "He does have a point. If Cailan and Anora had managed to produce an heir, we wouldn't really be in this crap."

I quirk my eyebrow at him. "You mean, you wouldn't be called upon the take the throne."

"Yes..." He sighs wistfully. "Yes, that too."

~*|'-'|*~

Andraste's tits, but this is terrible. Crucified to some kind of primitive wooden construction, is the body of King Cailan. Around his waist is an enormous hand print, bruised black and blue. Blood encrusts his face. Arrows and spears are sticking out of him. Strange that even after six months or so, he still looks quite fresh. Very strange. Could be something in the air that preserves him. Or the cold. Probably the cold. And to think that this was once the lively fellow who was so curious to see Duncan's latest recruit that he came to greet us himself. At least he's still got on his smallclothes. The lack of them would have added greatly to his humiliation. Ow. Alistair is crushing my hand into a pulp again.

As I stealthily glance around, I see everyone looking up at the dead king in silent reverence. Except for Zevran, who seems to be plain bored. Naturally, he wasn't present here the first time, so this won't mean as much to him as it does to the three, or four, of us.

"Forgive us, my king," Al murmurs. "Once we've flushed the darkspawn from their holes and bought ourselves some time, we'll be back to see you to the Maker."

I nod. "Yes, indeed, we-..."

Fucking darkspawn. This sorcerer pops up, bringing several of his friends with him. Archers. As if that wasn't enough, the sorcerer also revives some of the corpses that are lying around here. Methinks it is a necromancer. How wonderful. And it's a coward too; no worries though. We'll chase it down and kill it. After these.

~*|'-'|*~

My fellow Warden gestures ahead. "The Tower of Ishal." It's still as imposing and ruined as ever. For shame, the darkspawn haven't even done any repairs. "Let's do this."

Now that the king's gauntlets and breastplate are in our possession too, we have no other place to go than inside. "Hmm, so great to be back." I have nothing but pleasant memories of this tower. That there is sarcasm.

"Ha, yeah... I remember you crying at the sight of that ogre the last time we were here." Alistair pats my head as if I'm a child. "But I'm sure you will be fine this time."

"Hey!" I shake my fist at him. "First this place is overrun with darkspawn, then I trip over some wire, the bloody floor starts burning and that soldier dies, and finally some hulking monstrosity tearing chunks off a corpse? You forget my previous life mostly consisted of studying magic. In theory."

He raises his hands in placation. "I meant nothing by it!"

"Oh, bite me." I open the door. "After you."

"Of course, but first..." Before I can do anything, he scoops me up and gently sinks his teeth into the side of my neck. Mmm, that's so good. It's been too long since I've had someone in my bed.

Zevran harrumphs. "Get a room!"

And now Wynne harrumphs. "Do you hear that, Alistair? Even Zevran thinks your behaviour is highly inappropriate!" She sounds rather miffed. "Have you no manners? Let Astoreth go this instant."

Gingerly he sets me down. "I'm sorry. But look, at least she's not angry with me anymore." A wide grin of triumph adorns his face.

"Why must you take things so literally?" I rub at the bite mark on my neck, still wet with saliva. The area feels overly warm, and so does my face.

"Because it makes you smile," he says happily. "See? You're smiling."

Unable to turn down the corners of my mouth, I wag my finger at him. "Sometimes, I really dislike you."

"No, you don't." With obvious glee he messes up my hair. "You adore me."

I'm not even going to answer that. But damn it if he isn't right.

~*|'-'|*~

"Darkspawn. Lots and lots of them." I press my fingers to my temples. It's like a swarm of bees in my head. "You guys stay here, and I'll Fire Ball them."

"Wynne, should you not be helping her?" Zevran suggests sweetly. "Two Fire Balls are better than one, no?"

The old lady shrugs. "As you may have noticed, I specialize in the School of Creation. Primal spells are where our Warden's talent lies."

"Oh, oh!" I snap my fingers. "I do have a nice idea though. Do you happen to know Grease?"

Wynne's eyes instantly light up. "It has been some time since I've used it, but yes, I do." She follows me deeper into the tower. In an uncharacteristically girlish giggle she adds: "When I was still a teenager, a few of my friends and I would sneak up to the templar's quarters and cast Grease on their floor. Great hilarity ensued."

A mental image of templars slipping, falling and cursing, their armours clanging loudly. A pile of men in heavy metal strewn across the floor. Priceless. "I'm beginning to like you more and more."

The room we're in is the same one that was booby-trapped the last time. The time has come to give these ugly buggers a taste of their own medicine. It takes Wynne a mere second to Grease the floor. Upon noticing my tainted self, a great group of darkspawn come flocking toward us. Just in time to get caught in the wonderful double effect of Grease and Fire Ball. The only one left standing is an enormous, angry ogre. Tearing a chunk of stone from the floor to hurl at us. Wynne and I take cover. "We need some help in here!" she yells.


	6. Six Kinds of Awesome

"Ugh." Alistair peers down the abyss-like hole that is just before the door. It's been thoroughly barricaded from the other side, so we can't go to the second floor. Woe. "Down the hole and into the deep. I don't even want to imagine where that leads."

A perfect introduction for some choice innuendo, and Zev's not even making a comment. I look at him. "You're not going to say anything?"

"Oh, no, no." His hands are raised, the look on his face wary. "I would prefer not to get a boot up my behind. Especially one of that size."

"Very good, you are beginning to learn." Wynne encouragingly pats him on the shoulder. "Now, who is our first volunteer to climb down?"

Nobody says anything, so I'll be the volunteer then. "Fine, I'll do it." With my sword strapped to my belt, and the shield to my back, I carefully lower myself down the abyss. Thankfully the stone is rough and there are plenty of gaps and ledges to hold onto.

"Have you ever climbed anything before?" My colleague frowns in worry. "Maybe you should just hitch a ride on my back."

I go down a little farther. "I'm a big girl, I can look out for myself. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?" But of course the rock I was holding onto has to come loose. "_Waaaaaaaah_!" Oh dear, this is a long fall. Don't die, don't die, don't... Thud. Hey, lucky. I landed on something, not quite soft, but squishy enough to shield me from serious injury. Something that just uttered a piercing shriek. Only my bum feels a bit sore. Frightened shouts from my companions float onto me. "Don't worry, I'm fine. A giant spider broke my fall." I hope it's the force of my landing that killed it, and not my sheer weight.

Two pairs of hurlocks and genlocks are staring at me in obvious surprise. "Hey guys." One of them actually raises its hand at me, its manner hesitating. Kind of adorable, but it must be the shock at such a sudden intrusion. "Don't mind me, I'm just here to kill you." Only when I draw my weapon and pull the shield off my back, do the creatures react.

~*|'-'|*~

It took the others but a little while to join me down here (Stubbs was carried down in a bag on Alistair's back), in these ruined halls. I wonder at what it used to be. There are statues of Andraste, but there are also odd carvings on the walls. Of faces that seem to have tentacles growing out them. Although I suspect that's just my wild imagination. They are probably depictions of elaborate helmets adorned with horns. Stubbs is also curious; he sniffs here and there, pees here and there. Digs around in rubble to bring me items he apparently thinks might be useful. I love my dog. He's six kinds of awesome.

This area isn't as overrun with darkspawn as one might expect. Instead, giant spiders rule here. The one I accidentally crushed was probably just about to fight the darkspawn. I have cobwebs in places I didn't even realize I had. Ugh.

Finally we crawl through a stone tunnel and end up back outside. A courtyard of sorts. The icy cold descends on me like a blanket made of snow. I want a cloak, and I want it now.

The genlock necromancer is already waiting for us, menacingly grinning its sharp teeth bare. A few gestures with its hands, a wisp of blue light and suddenly, an ogre emerges from under the snow. Judging by its colour and the two blades sticking out of its chest, it was dead. But not anymore. Roaring with rage, the creature extracts the sword and dagger to drop them in the snow.

"My friends, the ogre is all yours." On a sign of the sorcerer, several skeletons pop out of the snow as well. "As are the undead. I'll deal with the necromancer." Wynne, Alistair and Zevran immediately set to killing them all.

The snow crunches under my boots as I make my way to the necromancer, bloody-edged blade at the ready. The creature is so occupied with keeping its undead minions on their feet, that it hardly notices my presence. Until it is too late, of course. Separated from the neck, its ugly head flies away. The spray of blood paints the white snow crimson. Only now do I notice that the creature was wearing Cailan's helm on his belt. Wagging his tail, Stubbs brings it to me and drops it at my feet. "You're the best dog ever." He barks happily.

"They suddenly all stopped moving," a puzzled Zevran says behind me.

"Of course they did," Wynne replies sagely. "A _dead_ necromancer cannot sustain the stolen life energy of his undead minions." A noise of understanding from both men.

Alistair looks at the helm resting under my arm. "Well, that's the last of them." He holds up the weapons that were previously embedded in the ogre. "Look at these. Do they seem familiar to you?"

"Certainly. They belonged to Duncan." In the few weeks it took us to travel to Ostagar, I mostly walked behind the man and got a good eyeful of the sword and dagger strapped to his back. His garb was the most interesting-looking one I've seen to date. "It's too bad we can't give him a proper burial, or anything of the sort."

"Yeah..." My friend absently scratches his head. "So, I think you should have them. Duncan was very proud of you, and he would be even prouder if he'd got to see you now. Besides, this sword is better than the spare I lent you."

I gingerly take the obviously well-kept weapons from his hands. "He... he was? Really? Thank you." Oh crap, I'm getting all teary-eyed here. Duncan's dagger takes the place of my own. "Here Zev, you can have this one. I took it off one of your cronies anyway."

"Ah, alas, poor Derek." Fondly, the assassin cradles the dagger to his chest. "I knew him well."

"A good friend of yours, then." Or a lover. Hmm. "Sorry I killed him." I show him my most apologetic smile.

He pockets the knife and smiles back."Eh, it's fine." Dismissively he waves his hand. "He kind of had it coming."

I shrug. "True. Now then, we may return and put the king to rest." I feel a strong urge to try on the helmet, but first it needs to be thoroughly sterilized. Just like all other pieces of royal armour.

"Judging from the lines around your eyes, Alistair, I daresay you look almost as old as I do." The old lady sends him a pitying look.

Zev's behaviour apparently rubs off, because Al just grins and says suggestively: "And might I say, my lady, that you are looking younger and younger?" There is a distinct flirty tone to his voice. My word.

"Be careful whom you flirt with, young man." Wynne chuckles in amusement. "If you wake up beside me tomorrow morning, I'll be back to reminding you of your grandmother."

"B-beside you?" Now he sounds confused. Our lecherous elf on the other hand, utters a barely audible snigger.

Again, the senior enchantress laughs. "You heard me. It wouldn't be the first time I woke to a younger man in my bed." And you think you know someone. Sweet Maker, I just cannot imagine Wynne in bed with Alistair. It... It kind of freaks me out. Now I have to scrub my brain with bleach.

"Are all women this evil and conniving when they grow old?" Alistair asks, with a sidelong glance at me. I have nothing to do with it. Nothing at all. All two or three of my lovers have been older than me.

"Just me, dear. Just me." Wynne flips her hair in an exaggerated manner, making clear that she's just pulling his leg. Or is she? I would rather not think about that too much.


	7. Homesickness

"They left him here to rot." Alistair looks up at his brother's corpse in dismay. "We need to do something."

"Well, if you let me sit on your shoulders, I think we're tall enough to take him down." I gauge the height. "Yes, that should be about right. And while we do that, Wynne and Zevran could go collect some wood and build a pyre. Unless, Wynne, you would rather help Alistair."

Zevran harrumphs in protest. "I will most certainly not build a pyre for the king of a cold, wet country I am not even a citizen of. Do what you will, I am returning to the others."

Al doesn't even give him the chance to walk away and firmly grabs the elf by the shoulder. "Cailan was a good man who hoped too much and died too young. He deserves what little honour we can afford to grant him." His voice is low and foreboding, his eyes narrowed. "And 'we' includes _you_."

"Zevran, you insisted on coming with us." I gently pry my fellow Warden's hand away. "You didn't think that all we were going to do was fight, did you? Take the bad with the good. Come on, I'll come with you. Stay, Stubbs. They might need your help." Obediently my dog sits down beside Wynne. The two men exchange glares, while I pull the elf away to go find some wood. They only stop when we are too far away. "What's the problem? Why are you being like this?"

"I..." He stops walking and rubs his eyes. "I wouldn't know."

A cold, wet country he's not even a citizen of, wasn't it? "You're homesick." There are some useful branches here, so I bend over to pick them up. When I get rise again, he's not even looking at my behind, just staring at his feet with a sad look on his face. This is bad. "Tell me of Antiva, if you would." I slip my arm around his shoulders, guiding him a bit further. That wood isn't going to collect itself, and we should get a move on out of this miserably cold, accursed place.

"You wish to know of Antiva, hmm?" He chuckles wryly. "The only way to truly appreciate it would be to go there. It is a warm place, not cold and harsh like this Ferelden." A longing sigh. "In Antiva it rains often, but the flowers are always in bloom... Or so the saying goes."

"Ah, that does sound better than miserable cold and boring countryside." Something to add to my to-do-list: visit Antiva someday. "Where are you from exactly?"

The assassin's luscious lips stretch into a fond smile. "I hail from the glorious Antiva City, home to the royal palace. It is a glittering gem," he makes a wide gesture with both arms, "amidst the sand, my Antiva City. Do you come from someplace comparable?"

"Oh, certainly." I paint a wide arc in the air with my free arm. In a dramatic voice, I proclaim: "I come from a giant stone penis, rising out of a misty lake."

"Pardon?" he queries in amusement.

I have no choice but to laugh at the funny face he's making. "I was talking about the suspiciously phallic tower of the Circle. I don't know who my parents were, or where I was originally born. Nor does it really matter."

"I see." Zevran nods pensively. "Hmm, you know what is most odd? We speak of my homeland, and for all its wine and its dark-haired beauties and the lillo flutes of the minstrels, I miss the leather the most."

"Are you speaking of a certain part of the anatomy of those dark-haired beauties?" All I get is a quizzical stare. "If I remember correctly, leather is also a slang term for the female genitals."

He breaks into a laugh. "It might as well have been, but not this time. I mean the smell!" His nostrils flare as he sniffs delightedly. "For years I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City's leather-making district. I grew accustomed to the stench, even though the humans complained of it constantly. To this day the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me of home more than anything else."

"I understand. Smells are important when it comes to memories." But leather? That's quite strange.

"So they are." His arm slides around my waist and all of a sudden he doesn't look so miserable anymore. "I understand why Alistair is so fond of you." No undertone of seduction to his voice, no innuendo. Ah, a side of him I've never seen before. "Perhaps I have been too occupied with trying to talk you into my bed, but now I see you really are a gem of a woman." Fondly he pulls me into his embrace. I'm not so cold anymore. "Thank you for this, Astoreth."

I wrap my arms around him in turn. "Oh, sure, I... Wait, did you just say my name?"

"Why, yes, I did. Does that surprise you?" His beautifully accented voice sounds just above my ear, his lips lightly touching it.

"You normally call me Warden, accompanied by some adjective." What was it again? Sweet Warden, dear Warden. Mostly those. "You're welcome, in any case. If ever you need to talk, I'm here."

His lips make contact with my skin. A shudder passes through me. "Perhaps I could repay this kindness? In the manner I am most skilled?" There's lust in his voice. I should've known. And yet I don't really mind. Not at all.

"Please tell me it's..." His hand moves between my thighs, the fingers fluttering along the inside of my right. "Flowers and a nice... dinner..." Oh fuck, but he smells fantastic. Sweet cinnamon cookies.

"Flowers are reproductive organs, as a bright girl such as yourself must know," he chuckles into my ear. "And in case you worry, my lovely, let me assure you that I have only _your_ pleasure in mind."

My breath catches in my throat when his fingers move higher and higher. Caressing ever so lightly. "My... my pleasure? But I..." Tempting. So tempting. "I shouldn't, really. All I did was ask you about Antiva."

"And in doing so you made me feel better. I insist." Soft kisses along the side of my neck, a warm body pressed persistently against mine. "You seem as if you could use it."

"True..." I should be saying no. I think. Shouldn't I? He's been throwing himself at me since the very beginning, and Jowan is gone. Maybe I should allow myself some mindless fun. "Well, all right then. What are you going to do?"

I didn't even notice it, but there he is sitting on his knees, smirking up at me. "I think you know." Almost lovingly he parts the slit in my robes and tucks the fabric under my belt so it won't get in the way. He nuzzles me right through my panties. Even that feels nice. Memories. Jowan loved doing this. I think he spent most of our time together with his face between my thighs. "I will do nothing that you would not enjoy. On my honour." Zev's fingers hook through the sides of my knickers, his amber eyes gaze up at me questioningly. "May I?"

I can only nod. There is a wall against my back. When...? So strange. The stones must be a as cold as ice, but I do not feel it. I _can't_ feel it. My undergarment slides down my legs, and I feel his hot breath against my bare skin. First, only kisses on the insides of my thighs. Just when I think that he's about to really go for it, even his teasing stops. I take a peek; I see and feel how he spreads me apart and studies me. "How beautifully pink you are," he whispers reverently. "And so delightfully fragrant." Deeply he inhales, almost burying his nose in my snatch. "You must possess the sweetest little bud I have ever laid eyes on."

"Only my pleasure in mind, he says." I tangle my fingers into his hair and give a sharp yank. "It's really cute and all, how you're singing my pussy's praises, but I know a better use for that glib tongue of yours." What's happening to me? I'm usually never like this. So dominant. This feels good. It feels right. Pulling hard enough to hurt him, I bring his face closer to me. "Stop talking and start licking."

"As my mistress desires." His meek words make clear that he understands the part he should be playing. Good boy. My leg is hooked over his shoulder before he dives in. Oh. My. Goodness. Consider my mind blown. He wasn't bragging about his oral skills, let me tell you. His tongue slowly glides along my lips, sometimes dipping between them. I swear it's as if I can feel it deep inside of me.

And then, tiny circles traced around my clit. Still he takes care not to make me come immediately. I've no doubt that he could do that. Rubbing up against the vibrating cock is all well and fine, but it can't beat a man who knows exactly what to do with his tongue and fingers. A single digit slips into me, appears to be curling into a "come hither" gesture. And it rubs against something I didn't even know I possessed.

I squeeze my eyes shut. This is so good, and at the same time, not so much... "Zev, you might want to stop," I manage to moan somehow. "I feel like I have to pee, and I'd hate to do that all over you."

"No, you must simply try to relax." Not once does he move his mouth away from me. I feel more than hear what he's saying. "Trust me."

I shrug. He knows what he's doing, after all. "If you say so." As I let go of my anxiety to empty my bladder while in such an intimate act, the unwelcome pressure ebbs away. His rubbing and licking become more intense, the tension in my gut building up until it's almost unbearable. One last flick of his expert tongue, and the tension turns into a massive explosion. Everything goes white behind my eyelids. I cry out and fucking _gush_ several squirts of hot liquid. My legs are jelly, all my muscles are trembling. That there is the craziest orgasm I've ever had. "Whoa..."

The assassin rises. Smugly smiling down on my no doubt blushing face, he wipes his chin and laps up the juices. "See? I _told_ you I would blow your mind."


	8. Eternity in My Arms

Finally both Zevran and I have collected a good amount of branches to build a pyre with. We haven't really spoken since... Since he went down on me. Let's just call a spade a spade. I only dared to ask him whether I felt wide down there, because I really wanted to know. It's kind of an obsession, to be perfectly honest. I really want to have good sex again someday soon. Don't know with whom, but it won't be difficult to find someone, I'm sure. Zev assured me that it was obvious to him I'd been dutifully doing the exercises women are recommended to do after they give birth. I should thank Wynne for urging me to do them. They really pay off then. I'm glad; the last time I put a finger in there, I almost had to go in with a torch to see where I'd lost it.

After that, no words were exchanged. I was overwhelmed with the physical need for some good release, I suppose. Otherwise I'd never have agreed to it. And now things are a tad awkward. I'm sure it will wear off anyhow. At some point. He won't stop smirking at me, damn it. As we return to the other three, it's obvious that things have not quite gone according to plan.

"What gives?" the Crow asks almost cheerfully. "Why have you not taken down your king yet?"

"Er, well..." Wynne clears her throat, an obvious blush on her face. "I have a fear of heights." Stubbs barks encouragingly and rubs his face against her hip in sympathy.

I lay a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, dear. Didn't you have trouble living in the tower then?"

"I was fine as long as I didn't look out of a window." She smiles rather awkwardly. "I must apologize for the delay."

"Don't be ridiculous." Alistair shakes his head. "I already told you hundreds of times it was no problem at all." Briefly he glances at the suspended body. "He's not going anywhere."

My eyebrow goes up all on its own from hearing that irreverent remark, true though it may be. He probably didn't mean it that way. "Would you mind helping Zevran build the pyre then, Wynne?"

She nods. "I will help him." With that, she relieves me of the branches and turns to the elf.

"Well, good to see that's taken care of." Al crouches on the snowy ground at the base of the construction that holds Cailan in the air. "Hop on."

"Okay." I get on his shoulders and hold onto his neck for dear life. This is so creepy. "Please don't drop me." Eep. So high.

He takes a firm hold of my legs. "Not in a million years! Say, what took you two so long?"

Even before I can answer, Stubbs barks cheerfully. It's almost as if he knows. He probably smelled it off me, or something. Just this once, I'm happy hardly any of us can understand his language. I grind out a rather shrill giggle. "We just had some trouble finding good branches. The snow is pretty deep, you know." As soon as I am close enough, I begin pulling the arrows out of Cailan's legs and chest.

"Oh, so you didn't have to fight him off, huh?" The other Warden laughs. "Good. Finally he's learning some manners."

The spears are more difficult to extract. "So it would seem." Yes, I don't think I'll tell him about how Zevran's face was buried between my thighs not so long ago. "Get ready to catch him, he's about to completely come loose."

His hands let go of my legs to catch the dead man, so I reflexively close them around his neck. "Can't... breathe!" he wheezes.

"Sorry." I loosen my grip. "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks." Carefully having lain down the body, he crouches again in order to let me get off him without seriously hurting myself. "Ugh, I'm going to take a long, long bath after this." He wrinkles his nose at the corpse in his arms. Fresh he may look, fresh he doesn't smell. My mabari follows us, curiously looking at Alistair and his passenger. He's probably wondering why his friend is carrying that smelly fellow around.

Wynne and Zevran have finished building the pyre. It looks great. "Good job, you two."

They both nod gravely, the elf moving to help Alistair place his brother on the wooden structure. "If I may, Alistair, I would like to apologize for my behaviour earlier."

"It's fine. I'm used to you being an..." He smiles joylessly. "To you being you."

"Nevertheless." Zevran completely ignores the barely hidden barb. "I was being obstinate because I miss my home, as your fellow Warden has made me realize. Of course this man deserves any honour we could grant him."

Al unexpectedly claps the shorter man on the shoulder. "Well thanks, Zev, that's good to hear. And don't worry about Antiva; as soon as this mess is done with, you can set off. It will probably still be there."

"Do we happen to have anything we can cover him with?" I cross our late king's arms before his chest and make sure he's in a dignified position. Only negative answers follow my question. "Oh, that's too bad."

"Aster, would you do the honours?" My colleague squeezes my shoulder. "Will you start the fire?"

"As you wish." I conjure a jet of flame from my hands, and the others collect behind me. It takes a good amount of fire before the slightly wet branches finally alight. A certain verse of the chant comes to my mind. "_Let the blade pass through the flesh, let my blood touch the ground, let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice._" I bow to King Cailan, who is soon to be consumed by the fire. "You gave your life for Ferelden, Your Majesty. We will make sure that this sacrifice will not have been in vain. Your task here is done. As Andraste said: _Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you. In my arms lies Eternity_."

Alistair tightly wraps his arms around me. He smells of death and despair. "That was beautiful. I'm sure he would've liked that," he chokes out. Without a sound, his hot tears fall onto my shoulder.

I can't really say anything. No words of comfort could make him feel better about losing the brother he obviously cared more about than even he knew.


	9. Flemeth Revisited

After we'd returned to camp, I fed Collin and received some unkind glares from Morrigan because I haven't killed her mother yet, we are in the Korcari Wilds again. I left Alistair and Zevran behind; the former because he was too emotional to fight an ancient abomination, the latter because his constant smirking and lascivious little gestures when nobody was looking were just plain unnerving. Stubbs wanted to stay with Alistair, to cheer him up, I think. Instead, Leliana and Shale have come with Wynne and me. Girl power, yeah.

I remember the last time we took this route through the Wilds. It was as cold then as it is now. How many tree roots had I tripped over? Many, no doubt. And somehow a tree comes to mind. Not entirely sure what that means. Daveth was there too. He carried me on his back, because I kept falling down. Heh. I'll never, ever forget that man. This time, however, I'm not having any trouble. All this travelling has truly done wonders for my clumsiness.

Leliana is looking around curiously at the luscious plant life. I've already picked me a whole lot of elfroot. An entire night of preparing poultices will keep my mind off what I did with Zevran. What happens in Ostagar, stays in Ostagar. It'll be our dirty little secret.

"Is this what we came here for?" the bard asks, pointing at the dilapidated shack a small distance away from us. In front is none other than Flemeth. Apparently doing nothing. "Is that Morrigan's mother?"

"Yes, that's her. The legendary Flemeth." I shrug. "If you believe that's really the woman the legends speak of." She may just seem a crazy old bat, but I'm sure we shouldn't underestimate her.

Shale laughs. "Ah, a frail old human to crush! It really doesn't mean to pose me any challenges, does it?"

"Oh, you will see, Shale." Leliana has put on an ominous voice. "Perhaps there is more than meets the eye here."

Flemeth immediately looks at me as we approach. "And so you return." A maniacal cackle comes out of her withered mouth. "Lovely Morrigan has at last found someone willing to dance to her tune. Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn't you say?" Another cackle. Strange. The last time we met, she was wearing a tattered old dress, and now she's in yellow robes. Just like the ones I used to wear. I wonder how she came by these.

"Morrigan told me all about your little secret, Flemeth." I run a hand through my hair. This woman's obvious madness is making me just a tad nervous. "About how you managed to stay alive for so long."

"Ah, I see." The joyous twinkle in her warm brown eyes turns to one of hard determination. "Let us skip right to the ending, shall we? Do you slay the old wretch as Morrigan bids? Or does the tale take a different turn?"

I shrug. "I think you know the answer to that. Morrigan is my friend; I can't afford to lose her. I have no choice but to kill you." Already I have my sword and shield at the ready, but apparently we're not done talking yet.

"Choice," Flemeth muses. "There is power in choices, as there is in lies. I shall give you one of each: take my grimoire as a trophy to my daughter, and tell her I am slain." Chin cupped in her hand, she eyes me expectantly. "I go, and perhaps I surprise Morrigan one day. Or I may simply watch." She giggles that eerie laugh of hers. "It would be interesting to see what she does with her freedom. Enlightening, even. Would you give an old woman that?"

Hmm. So I walk out of here without bloodshed and tell Morrigan her mother is dead, while the old woman herself lays low for a while. After which she might come back and possess my friend's body anyway. Gee, such a dilemma... Not. "Forget about it, Flemeth." I point the tip of my sword at her throat. "Time for you to die."

Obviously I'm not intimidating enough, because the hag replies in a calm voice: "It is a dance poor Flemeth knows well. Let us see if she remembers the steps." Leisurely she walks away, up the natural platform by the side of her shack. "Come. She will earn what she takes." Her cold eyes gaze down on us. "I'd have it no other way." A blinding flash of light, and the old woman has become something else. A. Huge. Fucking. _Dragon_.

Shale shouts in glee: "Aha! A challenge!" With a happy bounce in her step, the golem runs up to the dragon. Just in time to catch some of the dragon's fiery breath. Not much damage done, since she's made of stone. "Oh, this is marvellous. I must thank it for bringing me along!" She swings her fist, hitting the dragon in the chest. It doesn't have that much of an effect. Time to poke it with something sharp.

"Astoreth! Are you _insane_?" Wynne yells as I make my way to Flemeth. "Stay back here and cast your spells!" Leliana doesn't say a word; full of concentration, she fires arrow after arrow at the enormous beast. Ice arrows, even. Best archer ever.

"No, I got this!" Thankfully, Flemeth is far too busy to notice my approach. Of course I could blast the crap out of her with magic, but where is the fun in that? Don't I need to really, truly use my martial skills as well? "Shale, keep her distracted." I intend to do what Alistair said about the Blight: the only way to stop it is to cut off the snake's head. Or something. Maybe I don't have to behead her; a sword through the brain should do the trick. Unexpectedly agile, I hoist myself onto the dragon's back. Thank you, Arcane Warrior. I'm sure this is just more of his doing.

Her back is broad and smooth, but not at all slippery. The shapeshifter doesn't even notice me until my arms are clasped around her neck. Fiercely shaking her head, she tries to get rid of me. Fortunately for me, I have a really good grip here. "Give up, Flemeth!" I stab my sword into the side of her long neck, causing a shrill cry and spray of deep red blood. "You die _now_!" More stabs, but that only angers her, it seems. This time she tosses her head so forcefully, I lose my grip. The fall doesn't even scare me, because it lands me on her head. Where I can plant a few feet of steel between her eyes. "Silly dragon. Not so sharp anymore, are we?" I drive my blade deep, deep into her head, all the way to the hilt. "No need to worry yourself though; my blade certainly is." The malicious dark eyes roll away, showing yellowy whites. Just for good measure, I pull out my sword and puncture her head a few more times. I'm soaked in blood, none of it mine. Makes for an interesting change, doesn't it?

Abruptly she crashes down, her relatively small legs collapsing under dead weight. I did it! I killed-... A last convulsion of the neck, and I'm thrown off. Fuck. I crash hard into a tree (and now I remember why I thought of a tree earlier). A sickening crack. Maddening pain. Where? Every-bloody-where. And why not? After all, it wouldn't do for me to escape battle unscathed. Oh, crap, that hurts! I think I'll just pass out. It has been a while since I've done that.

~*|'-'|*~

"You are lucky you're still alive." Wynne sternly glares at me while I support myself on Shale. "I told you not to engage that dragon directly, but no! You had to play the hero. It could have flown away and sent you crashing into the ground in a myriad of bits and pieces."

"I'm sorry." By the Maker and every god in the elven pantheon, that was terrible. I feebly and apologetically smile at her. "It was the adrenaline, I think. But at least she's dead." I pat the book under my arm. The bare tree on the cover is creepy. "She'll never bother Morrigan again, and I have her grimoire. All it took was a few broken ribs and a cracked skull." Which are now only tender, after Wynne's expert healing. She's right though. I could have been very dead. Seems like the old impulsiveness is still alive and kicking.

The old lady scoffs. "I cannot believe you went through all this trouble for that girl. She will probably not even be grateful to you."

"I must agree," Leliana chimes in. "Morrigan is never very kind, except to you, perhaps. And how on Thedas have you learned to handle a sword like that?"

"Oh yes, it fought very valiantly." Shale nods enthusiastically. "Too bad it had not considered the final death throes." Her glowing eyes peer down at me. "I watch intently whenever the two Wardens spar. It is a wonderful sight."

The bard gasps. "Alistair taught you that? That is amazing!"

"What, you've never heard the clang of steel in the middle of the night? But actually, no, Alistair provided me with experience; I already pretty much knew how to fight."

"What?" Shale appears to be puzzled. "It is a mage, is it not? Mages generally cannot handle blades the way it does."

I look up at her. "Look Shale, I could explain to you how it works, but I'm not going to."

"And why not?" the golem huffs.

"Because you don't care." I quirk an eyebrow at her. "Am I wrong?" Shale shakes her head. "Well then. Anyway, look guys, I know you don't like Morrigan much, but I do. And she's useful, right?"

"That is true," Wynne admits grudgingly. "She has pulled her weight. Very well then."

Leliana picks up her pace to walk beside me and pats me on the arm. "I think you are a true friend to do something like this for her."

Well, at least _someone_ understands.


	10. Cold Bath

Morrigan can't even spare a smile for me as she accepts the grimoire. That _bitch_. I'm obviously hurt, and she obviously doesn't care. "Ah, Mother's real grimoire, is it?" Her long, delicate fingers trace the embroidered tree on the cover. "I'm glad you were able to find it after all. My thanks for retrieving it. I shall begin studying immediately and unlock the power that it holds." After a curt nod, she rushes to her tent, the book cradled to her chest like a small treasure. Unbelievable. I suppose Wynne was right after all. Pff, when _isn't_ she right?

Well, whatever. It's done, and that's all that matters. Inside my tent I find Stubbs, who is vigilantly watching the baby. My child just stares at the dog in wonder, sometimes reaching out his hand to touch his nose. Of course, licking of tiny fingers follows, which in turn is followed by a little giggle. Stubbs barks, wags his tail and goes outside after some petting. I quickly feed Collin some milk. He seems happy to see me again. And a little worried. There is a frown on his cute little face. Probably because I'm not in the best shape I've ever been.

"Don't worry, honey. Mommy is fine. She fought a dragon today, and that dragon smacked her into a tree. But auntie Wynne made mommy feel much better, yes, she did." I stroke my fingers along the lines in his forehead until they disappear. "Hey, where's my smile? Come on, smile for mommy, sweetheart." Ugh, I don't know the last time I cooed like this for a length of time. Probably when I was talking to Mister Wiggums. Cats have an effect similar to that of babies.

And there it is. The sweetest smile I've ever seen. His smile turns into a yawn, his eyes flutter shut, and in mere minutes, he is fast asleep. "Sweet dreams, my angel." I lay him in his bed and plant a kiss on his chubby cheek. Oh, dear me. I could use a hot bath to loosen my muscles. And my robes can now definitely be thrown away. Here's hoping I fit into the ones Wynne got me.

Towel and new robes swung over my shoulder, I stumble to the water a small distance away from the camp. Ugh, it's a stream. Had it been a pond, I could've heated it. But for this I don't really have the energy. A cold bath it is, then. I dip my toe into the water. A _very_ cold bath. Ugh.

As I strip off my robes, I can't help but wince. I'm in more pain that I thought. And stiff as a board. Cold water might numb the ache, but warm water would really be better. Ah, this isn't even so bad. I kind of like it, this cold.

"Hey."

I open my eyes and find my fellow Warden looking down on me. Oh damn it, I hadn't even noticed him coming over here. Good thing I am covered to the neck up. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

He sits down, dangling his bare feet in the water. "I don't know. Numb, I guess."

"I'm sorry. I should have known Ostagar would be too full of unpleasant memories-..."

"I'm not saying I regret going," he interrupts me. "If you'd decided to leave me behind, I would have whined, and whined, and whined some more, until you let me come. So..." Absently he runs a hand through his hair. "Shale tells me Flemeth turned into a dragon and you killed her in a rather spectacular way."

I splash some water onto my arm to clear away the blood on it. Soap. I knew I'd forgotten _something_. Well, I'm too far to go back now. "Spectacular, or stupid? I just climbed onto her back, then her neck; she threw me up into the air, landing me on her head, and then I stabbed her there. Several times."

"Duncan once told me he'd killed a dragon in a similar manner." Alistair smiles sadly. "It nearly cost him his life. According to Wynne, it almost did the same for you. You should really be more careful."

"I know. I've no idea what came over me, really." It was incredibly stupid. And all that for some selfish swamp wench who is apparently too pretty to care about me. Then again, she's been dutifully taking care of Collin. A favour for a favour it is, then.

He looks at me incredulously. "Risking your life, for _Morrigan_, even. I bet she hardly thanked you."

"Hm yeah, you're right. Wynne said it too, but I had to be a good friend and fetch her that damned grimoire. But what's done is done. Hold on." For a few seconds, I fully submerge myself to come up sputtering. Cold, cold, cold, and I accidentally inhaled some water. "I think I'm done."

"No, you're not," he says dryly. "I'm pretty sure that your back is still caked in blood. And you're bruised all over. I should've been there to protect you."

I rise out of the stream and fling my arms around him, wet and everything. "Aw, you're too sweet. But I think I can look after myself."

"I know you can, but..." With a sad sigh, he lays his hand on my face, softly stroking along my cheekbone with his thumb. "I've already lost a lot, Aster. I don't want to lose you too." There is an expression of infinite misery in his eyes.

"Oh, Al, I..." His apparent sadness has its effect on me too. "I... don't really know what to say."

Desperately he clings to me, cradling me to his chest. "_Please_, just promise me you will be more careful from now on. Please?" The tone is heartrending, pleading.

"I promise." Anything, if you won't cry. "I'm sorry I'm so stupid, but I promise I will be careful from now on."

"You're not stupid," he sighs. "I just thought we had that impulsiveness fully beaten out of you."

I laugh. "Apparently you've not done a good job at that." For some reason, I'm now thinking of being bent over Alistair's lap, while he deals hard, stinging slaps to my bare backside. Oh, my. That's so... _hot_. And probably painful. But mostly hot.

"Look." He cups my chin in his hand to tilt my face upwards. "I just want you to know that over the course of our time together, I've come to care about you a whole lot. And if you die on me, I'm never speaking to you again."

"Well, I wouldn't want that to happen..." Fascinating. The look in his eyes has completely changed. From utterly sad to dark and unreadable. "You mean a lot to me too, by the way."

"Good to hear that." He swallows thickly, then glances down. "_Holy Maker_!" he gasps. His eyes suddenly turn twice their normal size. "You're naked!"

I look at myself and gasp in feigned indignation. "_What_? How did this happen? Imagine, someone being naked while they bathe! Oh the outrage! For shame, and all that!"

"Har, har, har..." Face pulled into a scowl, he grunts exasperatedly. "Aren't we funny?"

"Yes, we certainly are." I slither out of his grasp, back into the water. The cold doesn't bother me so much anymore. "Now shoo, I should finish up and get dressed."

As he rises to his feet, I see how the front of his trousers protrudes rather interestingly. Ah, what I wouldn't give to play with that... He would let me, no doubt. But no ruining the virgin for me; I'm his friend. Friends don't do such things. I'm finally beginning to understand why Jowan always turned me down at first. I miss you, my blood mage. "Aster? Is something wrong?" I can hear Alistair say. Looking up, I see he is staring at me in alarm.

"Huh? No, of course not. Don't be silly." I stretch my mouth into my everything-is-just-peachy smile and point towards the camp. "Just go, before you notice that you're not wearing shoes and this fact shocks you out of your wits."

"Nonsense, I..." He looks down at his feet, then clutches his heart. "Someone _stole_ them! I need to find the one who stole my shoes. Justice must be served! I'll see you later." Happy for an awesome exit, he speeds away. This time I'll not ruin it by tackling him.


	11. Something Antivan

_Got another piece of Astoreth-art out there. Check it out: http :/ natmonkey. deviantart. com/ art/ Burning-Bridges-217548900 (Sorry, can't make it clickable). Old link was wrong somehow; paste it without the spaces, or just click the link on my profile. The picture is right there on top. It's even got proper inking, imagine that._

* * *

><p>Me, I'm not so happy. Slowly I lower myself, until all but my head is enveloped in water. Numb; so numb. Except for the sensation in my chest, where it feels as if a hand as cold as ice is squeezing into my heart. Why now, all of a sudden? Why were you so consumed by your guilt, my dearest? Why didn't you Join us, and try to redeem yourself? Why did I let you go? I know why I let you go. Because I love you too much to let your guilt slowly eat away at you. I fooled myself into thinking I didn't know how you felt, but I did. Every time I looked into your eyes, it was there. Behind the veil of love and warmth, there was a wall of pain and guilt. I tried to break it down by distracting you with my body, but I should have known better. All the great sex in the world could never chase away how betraying Lily made you feel. And now? Now it's <em>all<em> gone. No more guilt, no more pain. No more affection, no more love. But my love for you remains, and it always will. The promise I made to you I will keep, even if it tears me apart. I will-

"You are cruel, to deny poor Alistair your attentions so," an accented voice drawls nearby. I'm not even going to wonder how he got to sit beside me without me noticing; it's his job to blend into the shadows. Lucky for me he isn't planning to kill me anymore.

"Go away, Zevran." My voice sounds that way again. Without emotion. Perhaps this is what I would have sounded like if I'd decided on Tranquillity instead of the Harrowing. "I really need to be by myself for now."

The assassin makes a surprised noise. "What is wrong with you, _piccola_? You do not sound like the passionate woman who was writhing in my arms mere hours prior."

"Peek-coh-lah? What does _that_ mean?" It had better mean something nice, or else. I might yet find the will to use my death glare.

"Nothing terrible, I assure you." With his typical smirk, Zev licks his lips. "Merely little one."

"Heh." I can see the humour in this, even if my voice still won't show it. "You are an elf, and even compared to you I am small."

A tanned arm is draped around my shoulders. "If it makes you feel better, you are not that much shorter than I am." His smooth, wiry upper body makes contact with me. Normally this would make me shiver, or something equally cheesy, but now I don't really care. So there's an attractive, naked guy in here with me. Big deal.

"Huzzah." Joy. I cannot contain myself from it. "Please go away now."

"Seeing you like this unnerves me." All seduction has fled from his voice. "Tell me what ails you, dear Wa-..." He chuckles and corrects himself: "Astoreth. By now you should know that you can trust me."

I sigh. Why wouldn't I tell him? I'm going to have to tell someone, which means he will find out sooner or later anyway. "I miss Jowan, that's all. His departure has finally sunk in."

"Ah." He nods in understanding. "You did strike me as far too cheerful for one who has lost someone so dear to her."

"Strange, huh? I don't know why it happened just now." I sigh. "It's been weeks since I dropped him off at the tower." A week or three, four since I've last held him in my arms. Perhaps the little one has been distracting me.

"Oh, I don't know if it really is so strange," Zevran muses. "You are a busy woman, after all. There are the darkspawn, these nuisances on the way, and of course you have your son to care for. Is there really any time for grief between all that?"

"There sure seems to be now," I grumble. "All I know is that talking doesn't solve a thing. After I'd lost Cullen, I talked about it plenty, but the pain never went away."

A pale eyebrow is raised. "Who is this Cullen?" Just as I want to answer that, he continues: "But of course, he must be Collin's father. Is he dead?"

"No, the last time I saw him, he was still alive and gloomy." And reading a smutty novel. I'm still slightly shocked that my steadfast gentleman would be so enthralled by Talia's torrid, explicit affair with, what was his name again? Gary?

"Might I ask what went wrong between you and your templar?" Absently he twirls one of his loosened braids around his finger. "Yours was a forbidden romance, to be sure, but with enough care, it could have lasted."

I scoff. "In case you hadn't noticed, I don't live in Kinloch Hold anymore, while he does. Long distance relationships are easy to fail." I roll my eyes. "Besides, after the shit he was put through, he pretty much told me that he thinks of me as a potential blood mage, or an abomination waiting to happen. Afterwards, he did say he didn't mean it, but I sure can't unhear his words. And that was the end of our ill-considered affair."

"Perhaps it is for the best." The elf nods sagely. "Collin does not need a high-strung, mage-distrusting father figure. Instead, he has a very large and colourful extended family of sorts."

"Yes. With you as the perverted uncle who can't keep his hands off the women."

"Very true!" he chuckles. "Can you blame me, surrounded by beauties as I am?"

I shrug. "I guess not."

"Yours is a face that should not look so sad, _cucciola mia_. Perhaps there is something I could do to make you smile again, hmm?" Smiling seductively, he strokes my face in a sweet, tender manner.

"Coochy... What's that?" Something that sounds so cute, can't possibly be bad. I like Antivan. It's sexy.

The assassin's nimble fingers softly pinch my cheek. "You are a curious little creature, aren't you? I suppose it might be translated as 'my pet', or something along those lines."

"I'm sorry if I gave you false hope, but please don't refer to me as your pet." With a short sigh I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I am nobody's pet." I don't think anyone has ever even called me that anyway.

"Of course, forgive me." Immediately he seems miles away, all contact between the two of us broken off abruptly. "I was perhaps all too emboldened by what happened this afternoon."

I shake my head. "No, it's my fault. I should never have let you do that."

"Why is that?" He smiles an innocent smile that is belied by a naughty sparkle in his eyes. "Was it not to your liking?"

And suddenly, I'm laughing. "Are you _kidding_? I swear, I've never come like that!" How could I _not_ like such a wonderful treatment? Preposterous!

"So sweet of you to say." Grinning proudly, the Crow snatches my hand out of the water and presses his lips to the back. "I managed to put a smile on your beautiful face once more. My job here is done."

Tightly I hug him. "Thank you, Zev. You're a good guy. A bit of a sleazebag, but a good guy." I actually feel better. There is no use in dwelling on the past, none at all. Jowan is still alive, and he is where he wanted to be. In some ways, things worked out just fine. He told me himself that I shouldn't be sad for him; I should really do that. "Now call me something Antivan again!"

"As you wish, _tesoro_," he replies laughingly. "Treasure, literally; darling would correspond with it more."

"That sounds so awesome. Well." I hoist myself up on the bank. Easily. My arms have become much stronger than they used to be. "I should wrap this up before I turn into a prune." Where are my... Oh, super. Another something I forgot. Ah, well. It's not like I will still be going anywhere today. And now: the moment of truth. Will these new robes fit? First the dress. Gasp. Can it be...? Why yes, yes it can. It fits! Zevran, in the meantime, is watching me with great interest.

He nods contently. "That colour does you justice." An appreciative whistle sounds as I pull the stockings on. "Those really have to be the shapeliest legs I have ever seen. And let me assure you that I have seen my share of shapely legs."

"Oh, uhm, thank you." Now why does that make me blush? When he was commenting on how nice he thought my cunny looked, I didn't bat an eyelash. But a compliment about my legs? Someone splash me with cold water, because that is too shocking! The corset fits perfectly too, not tight at all. Kind of a hassle with all these closures though. Fur shrug, cloth arm covers and I am good to go. My vanity is yelling that I should find a mirror, to stare into it for a while. "Do I look as good as I think I do?"

"Better." Leisurely Zev waves me goodbye. "Enjoy your evening, _fiammina_."

"Aw, you too, my sweet little crumpet." I walk back to my tent under a barrage of dismayed protests. If he wants to give me pet names, he can bloody count on it that I will make up a few for him too.


	12. Gratitude After All

"Astoreth?" Morrigan lets herself into my tent without awaiting a response. "Are you still awake?"

"Dinner was half an hour ago, of course I'm still awake." Since I've retired to my tent, I have been staring sadly at my withered gift from a long time ago. Almost all petals have fallen off. "What do you want?"

The witch clicks her tongue. "You are upset with me, no? Has it anything to do with... What is that pathetic thing that you have in your hand?"

"This _pathetic thing_", I put a tone of warning in my voice, "was a gift from Alistair, a beautiful rose when he gave it to me. It stayed fresh for an almost unnaturally long time, but now it's really at its end."

"Its existence as a fair rose may be over, but perhaps it may continue as something else." She eyes the thornless, dried stalk critically. "Do you have any oils?"

Lemon-vanilla blend. Jowan mistaking me for Lily. Forget about it. "I do, yes." The small vial is easily located. "Here. What are you going to do with it?"

"Hmm, 'tis but an idea that has a slight chance at success." Morrigan tips a small amount of oil onto her palm and anoints the rose's stem with it. A careful attempt at bending it; when it doesn't, she adds more oil. Then tries again, then puts on more oil. Rinse and repeat. Finally the oils have penetrated far enough to make the stalk supple and flexible once more. "Ah, there we are. Present me with your wrist, if you will."

"Fine." Obediently I do as she says. What does the woman want from me anyway? If she has found something in her book that requires me to go on another suicide mission, I'm tossing her out of our group. She can find another to do her dirty work.

Frowning in concentration, the girl encircles my wrist with the lemony branch, then spirals the stem around itself. A bracelet. That's bloody brilliant. And it's even pretty, imagine that. She pulls a leather string from a pouch on her belt, with which she secures the shape of the bracelet. "There. Once 'tis desiccated once more, the string should no longer be necessary. As for the petals..." From another pouch on her belt, the witch conjures a tiny glass container. "If you have no qualms with it, I suggest you grind them into dust and keep them in this bottle. A gift given from love has great power."

"It was just a friendly gesture on his side." Wasn't it? He's never showed any real romantic interest in me, until recently. I don't even know if that's romantic interest, or just a curiosity about physical intimacy that I am well-equipped to satisfy.

"If that is what you wish to believe." Morrigan shrugs, chuckling low and throatily. "I wish to thank you for your assistance. 'Tis clear to me that you believe I slighted you when you first handed me the grimoire. For that, I offer you my apologies." Hesitantly she lays a hand on my shoulder.

Now that is better. I smile at her. "Don't worry about it. You're just not very warm-hearted, are you?"

"I fear not, no." Smiling uneasily, she adds: "Being in the company of... _normal_ people, I suppose, has made me less cold than I used to be, if that is of any comfort to you."

"I have noticed that, yes, but it doesn't matter, you are the way you are." I shrug. "We can hardly be called normal anyway. Zevran is a pervert, Sten is so stoic I can hardly say anything about his personality, Wynne is mothering to an almost annoying degree, Alistair possibly has the lowest level of self-esteem I have ever seen, Oghren is a lascivious drunk, Shale is a bird-hating psychopath, Leliana has her theatrical moments, and you are still unaccustomed to our ways. It's fine."

Morrigan laughs in a (for her) hearty manner, covering her mouth with her hand. "And what of you then? What description fits you?"

"Me?" Huh. "Good question, I don't really know. I suppose you might describe me as short-fused and impulsive."

"A temper, you?" Thoughtfully the witch taps her chin. "I would hardly think so, even if you take into account the way you slew that assassin. No, you should be described as warm, kind and patient. A true friend." Suddenly she looks very awkward. "I am aware that I have little talent for forming friendships, to put it lightly. And yet..." Her voice trails off. "When I discovered Flemeth's plans, you did not abandon me. Whatever your reasons, you fought what must have been a terrible battle without hope of real reward. And that is what I do not understand." Her voice is hopelessly puzzled.

I tilt my head to look at her curiously. "Why? I told you that keeping you around is all the reward I need."

"That is exactly what I mean." Her cheeks turn redder under the blusher she wears on them. "The very last of all the things I could have imagined when Flemeth told me to go with you, was finding in you a friend. Perhaps even a sister. I want you to know that while I may not always prove worthy of your friendship, I will always value it." A deep, relieved breath. "And now I must return to my tent, goodnight to you," she quickly rattles off.

"Wait." I stop her exit by holding onto her wrist. "Don't go all awkward on me now. Come here." She allows me to fold her into my embrace, hold her close. "People, well women anyway, will generally hug after a declaration of friendship. And I still haven't thanked you for fashioning a bracelet out of Alistair's rose. So thank you."

Finally she wraps her arms around my waist. "You are most welcome. Do you still believe 'twas merely given out of friendship?" she mumbles into my shoulder. "Do you not see the way that foolish boy looks at you?"

"Yeah, so he likes me." I shrug. "I like him too, I would definitely like to get into his pants, but he is still a virgin! Pure as the driven snow. You can understand my apprehension a little, can't you?"

She releases me and stares into my face incredulously. "No, not at all! Was it not you who said a man like that could be moulded to your every desire? That you, what was it again, that you wanted to eat him up? Surely you have had plenty of chances." Shaking her head, she laughs. "But 'tis Alistair, and he is a fool. You can do better than him, I am sure."

"Er well, I think he can do better than me, honestly." I peek into Collin's bed and run my fingers through his downy hair. He puckers up his lips and blows a spit bubble in his sleep. Awww... "I have another man's child, that has to be a burden."

"This delightful little boy?" Morrigan bends over the potato crate, fondly smiling down on the little one. "He could never be a burden to a soul, I assure you. Alistair is as fond of Collin as you are."

I raise an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, are you advising me against jumping into Al's bedroll, or are you encouraging it?"

"Neither, of course." With a slight chuckle she pats me on the head. "Truly, Astoreth, are you not a grown woman? You have no need of my advice. Now I must really retire for the night; travelling to Redcliffe will doubtlessly require all of my energy."

I nod. "Of course. Sleep well, my friend. Don't pore over that grimoire for too long."

"I shall endeavour to tear myself away from my fascinating reading matter before 'tis too late," she laughs, giving me a friendly kiss on the cheek. "Sleep well." And so the witch backs out of my tent, back to her own.

Now, where are my mortar and pestle? Whether the rose was a gift of friendship or love, preserving the petals in such a way has its symbolic value. And they still smell nice, so... Morrigan is full of good ideas. Ah, here we are.

What's this? Something very special. It holds great meaning. I picked it up without Alistair noticing and was going to give it to him, but in the trepidation about facing Flemeth, I kind of forgot. Well, it's not really going anywhere. Hmm, the petals make a lovely crunching noise as I grind them. Awesome.

"Hi Aster!" What is it with people just letting themselves into my tent? Truly, now I know how these people whose houses I randomly ransack must feel. "Whatcha doooooing?"

"Oh hi Alistair, I'm just crushing some rose petals."

He looks in confusion at the red-grey dust in the mortar. "What kind of poultice is that for?"

"It's not for a poultice. That rose you gave me is too withered to keep, so with Morrigan's help I'm giving it a new lease on life." I show him my wrist. "Look, she made the stem into a bracelet."

Humming thoughtfully, he inspects it closely. "Nice. Very pretty. So you are no longer angry with the evil witch?"

I giggle at the nickname he's assigned her with. "Come on now, she's hardly evil. Call her the wicked witch; it's more accurate, and it alliterates. Fetching, right?"

"Wicked Witch of the Wilds!" he giggles. "That's awesome! I still can't find the one who stole my shoes, by the way."

"That's because you don't have any. But fear not; I have something for you." The gift I found him at Ostagar comes out of the safe confines of my pack.

Trembling fingers touch the silver rim, where some dark blood still sticks. "This... this is the chalice we used at the Joining!" His eyes are wide with surprise, and brimming with tears. "Where did you find it?"

"At Ostagar, where the ritual took place. You were reminiscing with Wynne, so you didn't see it." Carefully I wipe the tears from his face. "I thought you might want to have it. Something to remind you of Duncan, seeing how I have his weapons."

Nodding wordlessly, he takes my hand and kisses the tip of each of my fingers. Every tiny kiss sparks a jolt of electricity that travels through my body, hitting me right in the heart. "Thank you. Whatever did I do to deserve you?" he whispers. Once again his beautiful eyes are shining with sadness. Sadness and affection.

"Uhm, I don't know, were you really naughty during your time in the Chantry?" Deflecting with humour. That used to be Alistair's thing. Now he's begun to swear, and I've started using poor humour in intimate situations. "There is no need for you to feel so grateful toward me. I'm not doing anything for you."

"Balderdash!" he exclaims unexpectedly vehemently. "You have done more for me than you know. At least you try. You don't ridicule me like almost all the others, or mother over me like Wynne does. You treat me like an equal, and that's really all I want."

So sad. A face as handsome as this should always smile. Softly I run my fingers along his lips. "You are easy to please, then. I consider you my equal, my brother-in-arms." His cheeks colour pink under my caressing fingers. "Just believe in yourself, will you? That is really your only flaw."

"Aster..." A lone tear trickles down his cheek. "Can I stay here with you? I'm really not feeling very well at the moment." He sniffles sadly.

"Of course, I'm here whenever you need me. Just undress and crawl into my bedroll. I promise I won't look." It will be a little tight in this small tent with all of us here, but we'll manage. As soon as he makes to take off his shirt, I turn my back and continue my grinding job. Even with the rose having been so voluminous, all the crimson petals crushed together only yield a small amount of fragrant dust. I tip it into the tiny bottle and cork it. It looks pretty and special. Perhaps I could have a metal stop with a ring made for it, so I can wear it on a necklace.

Alistair makes a few rustling noises. "I'm done." Only his head is poking out of the covers, the Joining chalice resting close by him.

"Good, make room for me." No need for me to undress. The first thing I did after dinner, was change into my nightgown. The new robes may fit well, but they could stand to be a little more comfy. Heh, I have no choice but to lie very, very close to Alistair's warm, almost naked body. "Will you be able to sleep, or should I brew you some sleepytime tea?"

"No, I hardly ever have trouble sleeping, but thank you for the offer." He cradles me close to his chest, presses a kiss to my brow. "Goodnight, Aster."

I blow out my lamp, enveloping the small space in darkness. "Goodnight."


	13. Scratching an Itch

_Last chapter of this instalment, darlings._

* * *

><p>I can't sleep. Even Alistair, who usually sleeps like a log, is tossing and turning. He bloody stole the blanket and there is no way for me to get it back. He's like Stubbs with a bone. Seriously, he growls in his sleep whenever I try to grab the blanket. I'm so cold. And ridiculously horny. Would you just look at him? All sweetness in a gorgeous package. I swear, if I weren't a mage who needs to control herself all the bloody time anyway, his virginity would have been torn to shreds ages ago.<p>

Damn you, Zevran. I keep thinking of what we did this afternoon. He really knows how to pleasure a woman, let me tell you. Amazing. I think I should go out for a walk. Clear my head, try to become a little more tired. I'll do that. When we return to Denerim, I'm getting myself a cloak. I don't feel like getting dressed one bit, so I won't. The cold will distract my heated body, won't it?

Oh, for the love of... It's cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass donkey. I don't know how Stubbs does it, sleeping outside without trouble. He opens one sleepy eye when I scratch him between the ears, wags his tail and then goes back to sleep. How cute. He looks very fierce with his new collar. My wonderful puppy.

Footsteps of the one patrolling the camp reach my ears, the occasional snapping of a twig under heavy boots. Belching. "Asschabs!" That's Oghren. What are _asschabs_? Yeah, I don't really want to know, actually.

The other half of the watch party is sitting by the fire, quietly caring for his Asala. "Warden." A look of curiosity briefly flashes in his violet eyes at my approach. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"I couldn't sleep and I didn't feel like putting my robes on." I sit myself next to him on the log. "Next mission I'm taking you along."

"So the message did come across." Sten nods contently, running a soft cloth along the length of his blade. "You are not as slow as you sometimes make yourself out to be then."

I sigh. "Thank you _so_ much for that." Still convinced I'm not fit to do my job.

"You're welcome." Carefully he puts Asala back in her scabbard.

No matter how comfortable it is by the fire, I keep getting unnerved by the way the qunari sometimes steals glances at me without saying a word. What on earth does he want? Is it really so difficult to just open your mouth and let words come out? "Do you have something on your mind, Sten?"

His eerily unwavering gaze fixes on my face. "Are you fit to lead? So far I have seen no signs that the blood mage's departure troubles you, _kadan_, but with you women, one can never be sure."

"Aw, so you _do_ care about me," I gush, fully aware that this may annoy him. If I didn't think pinching the man's cheeks would earn me a pair of stumps where my hands used to be, I'd do it. "Suffice it to say that I have been troubled slightly, but now I'm fine again. Fit to lead as always. Alistair even let me practise my swordplay skills on him."

"What swordplay skills?" The giant scoffs. "Peeling potatoes in a very awkward manner? Mages cannot handle a sword, no matter how hard they may try."

A challenge. One I should rise to when I'm well-rested, and not in my nightclothes. "Believe what you will." I get back on my feet; Andraste's ankles, I miss the fire's warmth already. "A good night to you." Not even a response. No manners, humph. I don't think Sten and I will ever be good buddies. What a tragedy. Perhaps I shall cry myself to sleep tonight.

Ah... There is still a light on in the pretty elf's tent. I do wonder what he is doing. Fuck, just thinking about the way his tongue was playing with my clit nearly makes me explode. And I've not even done anything in return. How rude of me. He has been so kind, very sweet even, and I have hardly showed him any appreciation. This should be remedied. "Hey, Zev, may I come in?"

"Yes, of course," comes from inside.

"Thank you." I enter, and the first thing I see is the Crow mixing some liquids together from several vials and bottles. For some reason he is shirtless, but wearing gloves. "That makes no sense at all. Why are you wearing gloves, but no shirt?" Not that I'm complaining.

He doesn't take his eyes off his work. "This poison is highly corrosive. Our fine dwarven friend passed by here, belched particularly loudly and broke my concentration. I spilled some drops on my shirt; I got it off just in time to keep my skin intact."

"That is a relief." I would hate for this caramel beauty to be ruined by unsightly acid burns. Hmm, well-defined musculature, elaborate tattoos that only make him sexier. I approve. "What are you still doing up at this unholy hour, by the way?"

"Just a moment." He finishes his labour by throwing a pinch of what looks like dried deathroot leaves into his mixture and swirling it around. The unfortunate plant matter dissolves bubbling, exuding a pungent smoke. Finally the virulently green poison goes into a round, thin-necked bottle that is securely closed. "There." He handles the bottle with the utmost care, until it is safely stored. Then Zev pulls off his gloves, carelessly tossing them away. "Well, what can I say? I couldn't keep a certain lovely lady from my mind, so I thought I should make myself useful." One of his typical smirks follows.

"Oh?" I settle close to him, folding my legs under me. "Tell me about her."

His smirk turns into a smile, his honey eyes light up. "Ah, she has the loveliest dark doe eyes, that one. Voluptuous lips, a cute little nose..." Leaning in closer, he pecks me on the nose. "An exotic beauty. Divine legs, too."

"Heh, are you talking about me?" Hearing him speak like this makes me feel proud of myself. Exotic though? That is a first. Maybe I really am beautiful. Or, and that might be more likely, he just wants to get into my panties. Still, I love compliments. And I love those pointy ears. I think I should play with them. "Do you like me that much?"

"Of course I am talking about you!" He chuckles, rolling his eyes. "And if I did not like you, I would have gone nowhere near your lady flower."

Lady flower. Classy. My tongue touches the tip of his ear and he shudders. "Your ears are sensitive, aren't they?" The surprised moan caused by me nibbling on the cute pointy thing pretty much answers my question. Gently I push him down until we're lying on his bedroll, with me on top. The warmth of his body burns through my nightgown. "I wanted to thank you for blowing my mind," I whisper into his ear. "You were amazing, Zev." Softly blowing into his ear and eliciting another groan, my fingers stroke his side. Delightfully soft skin. "But do you know what I would really, really like right now?"

"I do have somewhat of an inkling," he murmurs hoarsely as I rub my hip against his groin.

"You think I want to fuck you, don't you?" Slowly I run my tongue along the shell of his ear, then down the side of his neck. "That, however, is not what I'm after. Call me crazy, but I'm just longing to have a good helping of cock in my mouth." Even lower I go, showering his beautifully adorned pectoral muscles with licks and kisses.

A low chuckle reverberates in his chest. "I am fully at your disposal." His voice is deep and raspy with arousal.

"That is good to know." I look up at him and wink. "Not that you would be able to stop me anyway." Hmmm, such gorgeous abs he has. Wonderful. I trace every outline with my lips and tongue, hands already wrestling with the laces on his pants. Finally I just tear them off; I have plenty of laces lying around and I don't want to waste my time on these. He protests, but whatever. Do I care? Nope.

I rub my cheek against his erection through the silky fabric of his smallclothes. Can't wait to see what his cock looks like, but first... Still keeping the garment on, my index finger traces the entire length. A good size, I think. A tortured whimper issues forth from the assassin's lips as I rub my thumb along the tip. Enough playing around.

I plant a kiss on his navel, taking my mouth lower and lower while I peel off his smalls. Released from its confines, the rigid organ hits me in the chin. "Well, greetings to you too, ser."

"Forgive me my enthusiasm," Zevran laughs softly. "It has been too long."

"Hmm, I know what you mean." Would you look at this thing? It's as attractive as the rest of him. I could devote an ode in twenty quatrains to his lovely-looking cream stick, but really, I have better things to do. A weak feeling comes up in my tummy as soon as I taste his pre-cum. Oh, how I've missed this: a man moaning under my ministrations, a nice stiff one in my mouth. My private parts are throbbing with want. All at the same time I carefully suck on the head, rub my hand along his shaft and tease my clit. This is making me so incredibly wet.

The naughty elf pulls my hand away. "Are you touching yourself, _fiammina_?" he asks in a throaty whisper. My wet fingers end up in his mouth, where he eagerly sucks on them. "Allow me to help. Position yourself over my face so that I may pleasure you once more."

"No, I want to do _this_." I pull my hand from his grasp and return it to its old position.

"Nobody said that one excludes the other," he coos. "Get your plump behind over here and let me taste you."

Oh yes, of course. If I position myself over him backwards, we could pleasure one another at the same time. That is genius. Never taking my mouth off him, I plant my knees on either side of his head. Both hands free to do what I please. Promptly two hands grab my butt. My panties are pushed aside, and two fingers thrust into me. This time he just moves them in a fierce pumping motion. His tongue taps against my button; all of a sudden it's very hard to concentrate on what I'm doing. But my will is strong(-ish) and I will not falter.

I bob my head up and down his erection, tongue wrapped around it, stroking what I can't fit into my mouth with my hand. With the other hand, I carefully massage his balls. So delicate, these little things. Ever since his nimble tongue began torturing me, I've been close to coming. Un-bloody-bearable. And yet so fan-fucking-tastic. My hips are making grinding motions without me even trying, only making the sensations more pleasurable. It's that my mouth and hands are so accustomed to these acts, or I'd just be lying here, enjoying myself. I would hate to be so selfish.

One of his fingers slips out; the pleasure numbs down. I could just about cry with frustration, but then a slick digit slides into a place nobody has been bold enough to go before. His fingers move at the same pace. A divine feeling, both orifices being filled this way. The pressure in my centre returns full force and unleashes itself almost immediately. I utter a series of muffled moans into the assassin's hard-on, rubbing myself up into his face. The pleasure is so great I'm seeing stars and flashes of light behind my eyelids.

Whew. I fully intend to repay him for this favour. With renewed enthusiasm I attack his cock, devour it until the tip hits the back of my mouth. Sucking it as hard as I can. A subdued moan is sent into my flesh, delicate fingers digging into my behind. A barely perceivable throbbing has set into the wonderful organ. I am on the right track. As my tongue caresses Zev's rod, the throbbing becomes more vehement. Before long, his entire body becomes as tight as a bowstring, a stifled scream sounds and he erupts in my mouth. Sticky and salty. Mmm... He shivers while I dip my tongue into every nook and cranny to get all of his cream. A job well done, I think.

When I make to get off him, he holds me back. "Wait." His tongue languorously licks between my lips, fingers still moving very slowly. "Let me get just a little more..."

Sure, if that's what he wants. I neatly tuck back his equipment; I even manage to close his pants again with the torn laces. "I have to say, Zev, you really weren't lying when you said you could do things with your tongue that would blow my mind."

"I rarely lie, my dear lady." This time he allows me to clamber off him. Grinning smugly, he folds his hands behind his head. "Saucy little minx. Who would have thought that _you_ would seduce me?"

"I'm full of surprises, remember?" I stretch my arms above my head and yawn. Sleepy. "So tell me, what does fee-uhm-me-nah mean?"

Laughingly, the elf pulls me into his arms. "I thought you would never ask! Little flame. It is not commonly used as an endearment, but for a fiery woman like you, it seems tailor-made."

"Heh, yeah, I suppose it does." Little flame. How cute. "So... You must have a history with women. And men too, huh? I'm just fascinated by that."

"You are a better person than most, _fiammina_." His fingers run through my hair. "My only rule is that sex is best when done well."

I chuckle, stroking his bare side with my hand. "Well, that sounds like a great rule to me."

"So, then." Suddenly his tone is serious. "As the priestess so famously said to the handsome actor: What now?"

The inevitable question. Awkward. I sit up and look down on his handsome face. "Ah... The thing is, I would rather not bind myself to a man anymore. And I know that you wouldn't ask that of me anyway, but chances are that this was a one-time thing. I'm sorry." Sigh. "I just don't want to fall in love again, and knowing me, that is bound to happen if I keep on sneaking into your tent. I hope you can understand."

He nods gravely, a lightly wounded look in his amber eyes. "I certainly do, and I appreciate your honesty. I shall treasure this then, and be satisfied that this is all it may be." His hand reaches up to caress my cheek. "But know that if you have need of some... companionship once more, my door is always open to you."

"Thank you, Zevran; I appreciate it." With a soft kiss on the palm of his hand, I add: "Sweet dreams then, handsome."

Sleepily he bids me the same, and covers himself with the blankets before I head out of his tent. On the way to my own, not even the biting cold can make me less satisfied and sleepy. I feel sated, my itch has been scratched. For now.

* * *

><p><em>So... Once upon a time I had a buffer of at least six instalments. Now I'm still working on part 15. No worries though; it's going to be a whopper, and part 14 will be interesting. See you later. <em>


End file.
